Sunflowers,
growing tall,
bringing life to that dull wall.
Reaching up towards the Sun,
flowering for everyone.
Bringing seeds and oil to harvest,
paintings from a demented soul,
the kind of one who falls the hardest,
upon life and everyone.
Nature coursing through the madness
bringing new light with the dawn,
but every star is stalked by darkness
making it shine all the more.
Until its flame is quenched by powers
A force much stronger than us all.
We'll just sit and watch the madness,
and those Sunflowers by the wall.

Another night in Paris,
but different than the ones before.
Left with love to conquer,
the terror knocking on the door.
I hope this won't discourage,
Liberty, where it was born.
For hatred is an energy
not within,
when we are born.
It's harnessed by a twisted way.
A path, that lost souls
sometimes take.
Lambs brought to the slaughter.
Brainwashed, to the point of hate.
Where every single drop of blood,
is washed away
with so called faith.
Yet I pray for all the victims,
not to a God that will dictate
I pray to what's within us all,
The love that is the only way.
A prayer to **** the hatred.
A guiding light
to show the way.

Winding through the alleys
down to the old bazaar.
wander through the Stone Town
in the Port of Zanzibar.
The colours and the people
the spices in their blood.
Aromas floating through the air
through the neighbourhood.
The laughter and the singing,
the sparkle in the eyes.
The joy of life and living,
never in disguise.
Winding through the alleys,
down to the old bazaar.
The joy of life and living,
on the streets of Zanzibar.

So the school bags are gone.
Summers sweet songs,
sweeps through the village,
the Sports Day is on.
The egg and the spoon,
the three legged race,
Mrs McGinty ends up on her face.
The children delight
a comical sight,
her legs in the air
those old tartan tights.

Those days,
that simplicity,
the little things, that stay with me.
Those clear skies,
I remember still,
the easiness
and sweet free will.

Swallows sing, I  swallow that bitter pill.
Light reflects off cutlery,
and everything is still.
Shadows crawl, and then fall off the wall.
The sun that shun
when we we're young,
was big and now it's small.
The memories, cast in a golden light,
but memories can change in time,
depending on our flight.
Our hope, still sheltered with our love.
Forms the sense of who we are,
forms the sense of us.

Fossils ,
storms,
eroded coast.
The shadow that I miss the most.
A lonely voice, lost to the waves.
Singing in a hidden cave.
A silent hum
upon the shore,
a voice that's never heard,
no more.
Maybe on some other plain,
somewhere lost inside my brain.
Words transcending from the grave,
somewhere lost inside my brain.

Raindrops,
falling on water
that was still.
Creating sweet unbalance
at one with natures will.
Timeless moment,
wanting nothing from the world.
I listen to its whispers
to see what I might learn.
And the mallard,
his cheeky little eyes
are throwing me a knowing look
as he glides on by.
I watch it now in motion.
I wonder bout his world.
All that he embodies,
with no one to serve.
A sense of truth
a sense freedom,
which seems out of human reach.
I watch the world around me
to seek what it may teach.

There's anger in the bracken
and anger in the grass.
It sweeps down from the valley
and kicks me in the ****.
It plays with my emotions,
as sometimes anger can,
and then it asks me questions
about the fruitless quests of men.
It leads me to an ancient ruin
where time has took its toll,
there's anger in the mortor,
and anger in the stone.
It wraps itself around me
with a promise to let go,
if I can live a truer life
if I can learn to grow.
It leaves me with an energy,
yet tired on the sand,
it told me it may still return
for anger is unplanned.
It leaves me with a message,
as only anger can.
Yes anger is an energy,
an energy unplanned.

Every day, sluicing into the next,
watching as the world gets vexed.
People asking questions,
beginning to stand up.
The world it is a changing child.
As I watch you grow up.

There's now communication,
between the voiceless masses.
The greed of some ,becoming clear
as time falls and passes.
People asking questions,
beginning to rise up.
I just want a safe world child.
As I watch you grow up.

Men will fight, they always have,
its written in the stars.
But they can't divide,
or try to hide.
The truth that's in our hearts.
Always ask those questions,
and son always stand up
for what is right, against what's wrong.
As I watch you grow up.

Upon the fields of Ulster,
the Druid Cathbad long had passed.
He left his knowledge to a few,,
and all but one, had long since passed.
The secrets of the land and nature,
secrets from those sacred souls.
Sewn, into fields of wonder,
then to rest with him alone.

Born under skies of roaring thunder.
A child that always walked alone.
Found his way to silence,
found a way to be at one..
Those days amongst the flowers,
the trees and all that breathes with truth.
T'was there he found a way to live,
somewhere to seek out the roots.
The knowledge that was planted,
bringing fruit to a hungry heart,
was where he met old Cathbad,
this is where it was to start.

And so the years of learning
followed like a growing wave.
The Alchemy and Healing,
wisdom from an ancient age.
The reasons why it's worth to try,
the light that lights the day.
Those teachings, some they came with grace,
and some they came with pain.
And then he was the only one,
the last one to remain.
A Druid under stubborn skies,
crying in the rain.

Chestnut trees and memories
of schooldays not in school.
Smoking trees under those trees,
never one for rules.
The evenings dark
up in the park.
The twilight and the haze.
Forever, there's a part of me,
embedded in those days.

The way we laughed,
refused to cry,
at all life had to give.
Underneath those starlit skies,
easier to forgive.
Underneath the laughing moon,
those days,
they ended way to soon.

The forest hides so many things,
the leprechauns,
the fairies wings,
among the life that nature brings,
listen to the warbler sing.
And all along the forest trails,
raindrops pour
as nature sways,
each thing on its own sweet way,
passing with the grace of day.
Capture it inside your mind,
trap it well within your core.
The forest lives
and breaths with time,
always leaves you wanting more.
Lost upon the forest floor.

Search inside a little while,
smile and frown,
and pass the day.
So when then,
your eyes get tired,
close them tight and fade away.
And when on you, a dream descends,
I hope it brings you joy.
Brings you back to happy days,
where there's no sad goodbyes.

I know
thinking bout the future's,
sometimes hard, when in the past.
Mercy holds no shelter,
for the shadows that were cast.
We wonder what we're doing here,
and is it all a game?
Sometimes it seems a cruel world,
and there's no one there to blame.

Where do we find the pieces?,
in this theatre called life.
Or are we just a tiny spec
in the realms of time.

Im sure you'll meet again someday.
In the realms of time.

Lost along the river.
Two hundred yards from where I grew.
Laughing as we shiver,
laughing as the moon turns blue.
Lost upon a feeling,
lost upon our quiet thoughts.
The kinda ones that linger deep,
the kinda ones that can't be bought
Yet sitting with each other,
pebbles rest beneath our bones,
Cherishing each other,
cherishing the grace we own.

Lost among the sand dunes
lost upon the fading light.
The last days of September
Summer fades away tonight.
The way the weather changes,
the way the seasons
all give way.
To a new beginning,
the dawning of another day.
Lost among the sand dunes.
The ocean never seems to change.
Yet every single motion,
brings the birth of a new wave.
The lighthouse in the corner,
a light that never seems to fail.
Reflecting on your beauty.
The light that carries me away.

A Calypso beat.
A gypsy heart.
An ocean that keeps them apart.
Two thousand miles
he had to thread.
To earn his crust,
to bake his bread.

Baking under foreign skies.
He ran away from all the ties.
But tied he is,
forever more.
To memories of Inchicore.

Horses *******
by the stairs.
St Michaels flats,
and she was there.
Laughing,
and her wicked tongue.
A face like hers,
forever young.

But then that night,
returns to haunt,
every dream,
and every thought.
Her tears.
His blood,
upon the floor.
Upon that stairs in Inchicore.

She is
The Keeper of the Flame.
A beacon, on an ancient grave.
Upon the earth
where wild things roam.
She takes her rest
under the Sun.

And then at night,
under the moon.
She sits beside
the cold stone tombs.
Guided by awoken dreams,
reflected faces in the stream.

And as the wolves
begin to howl.
She's searching,
for the sacred owl.
The knowing eyes,
that guide the way.
The wind upon
eternal flames.

The winds that whistle
in her ear.
The voice, that always
draws her here.
Upon the earth,
where wild things lie.
She tends the flame
and wonders why.

Fish scales glitter,
under sun,
as the silver makerel run.
We trace the coastline with our eyes,
before we say our last goodbye,
drowning under amber skies.
Watch the falling,
dying light.
Fall into waves
to steal our sight.
Let there be no tears tonight,
drowning under amber skies.

Old Slim Jim
all soaked in gin,
his cards upon the velvet cloth.
The Candle burning at both ends,
with everything he's ever sought.
Smoke obscures the mirrors.
A cheap view,
to the other side.
Old Slim Jim
is holding bullets,
something that his eyes can't hide.
Reaching for the bottle,
hand as steady as the wind.
A ghost upon the shadows,
passes, and it makes him grin.
Old Jim Believes in omens,
pointers from a different realm.
Cards upon the table.
In that old place by the Thames.

Darkness hiding in the tree's.
A lonely crossroads.
No man's land.
Ancient rituals.
Ancient tortures.
Blood,
upon the soil
and sand.

Through the hills,
a shadow seeker.
Seeking out somewhere to lie.
A lonely soul,
lost with the seasons.
Underneath
a blood red sky.

And as the blood dries,
on the tarmac.
A winning smile, a wicked fate.
Gypsy ghosts,
no longer vocal.
Shadows waiting
at the gates.

Through the hills,
a shadow seeker.
Lost upon the darkness still
A lonely soul,
Lost with the seasons,
Forever lost
and wandering.

Sat here with the clock
and its tickety tock.
There's holes in my heart
and holes in my socks.
The wallpaper peels,
reveals wallpaper from,
two decades before,
when we were still young.
Now aged with the years,
covered over in time.
Lost to the new,
lost to our eyes.
Its beauty, still present,
so I peel back some more.
Listen to records
and lie on the floor.
The ripples of smoke
swirling to the ceiling
kinda portrays
the way that I'm feeling.
Floating around
always lost to it all.
My mood just like wallpaper
can rise and can fall.

A shadow fell across the plains
as the air grew cold.
Thunder rolled up in the sky.
The day and me
both growing old.
And as the lightning pierced the clouds.
My tired eyes were on the road.
A lesson lived
A lesson learned.
We can't live on love alone.

Up ahead a diner.
A respite from the cold and rain.
Shelter with a greasy spoon.
A place for time to while away.
Upon the foggy window
I scrawl a heart around our names
And as the waitress brings my food,
I quickly wipe it all away.

Maple syrup pancakes,
foreign to my Irish tongue.
The bacon here's to crispy,
and everybody has a gun.
I wonder what I'd do with one.
That danger in my hands.
Shoot my way to glory,
or fall upon the promised land.

A rumble of thunder brings me back.
Reality ensues.
All the madness leaves my mind,
then it's left with you.
Seven thousand miles away
waiting on your own.
I leave that thought there
with the tip.
and return to the road.

Outside the air is crispy,
like the bacon in the bin.
Now its time to focus,
channel out a way to win.
The road ahead might bring the rain.
Alas I must go on.
The jukebox through the window
singing out our favourite song.

"What softens the spud,
hardens the egg."
I think resonance differs,
depending the head.

Depends on the heart,
some broken,
some cold.

Depending on age
the young
and the old.

Depends on the path,
some crooked
some straight.

Depends on the way
we handle our faith.

On St.Michael's layline,
a dozen miles from Dingles coast.
This was where young Luna May
was to meet the Holy Ghost.
High upon the rocks of Skellig,
awoken by the angry waves.
The ground beneath began crumble
opening the ancient graves.

The ocean calmed,
as angels fluttered,
danced and sang beside the sea.
Young Luna May just watched in wonder,
shedding tears of disbelief.
She checked her pulse and shook her head
cryed out loud "how can this be?".
Blessed herself before she fell,
gracefully onto one knee.
She looked up to the skies above,
eyes filled with fear
and filled with love.
The clouds gave way to brilliant light
and she could sense that God was near.

She asked "why have you chosen me,
what is it that I can do?"
This is when the Ghost appeared
forming from the morning dew.
It led her up the ancient steps
Clasped her hand,
yet she felt free.
Sat her down upon the grass
kissed her gently on the cheek.

As it did, her life went flashing,
like lightening bolts before her eyes,
thunder roared inside her soul,
as she slowly realized.
"Am I here because I've wondered?,
doubted all I felt within"
This is when the Ghost would speak,
telling her "doubt is no sin,
all you need, has always been".
"All you need, has always been".

Then suddenly..........
her eyes shot open,
jolting upright in her bed.
This is when she was to realize,
"I've spent too long living dead.........
Then with grace she was to realize,
"I've spent too long in my head."

“There were trees there once”, he said,
as his youngest grandson looked out across the barren landscape
that went on for miles and miles before his innocent eyes.
“And animals and birds too” he continued.
“Like the ones I’ve seen on the screen?”, asked the child.
“Or the ones Momma swore she once saw in a zoo."

“What were they like?” he quizzed,
without knowing the pain and sorrow
that rested in his old grandfathers heart.

“They were beautiful child, beautiful and free,
but the greed of our kind could not let them be.
The greed of mankind was a terrible thing."

“And will they come back? "asked the boy, with hope in his eyes,
as his grandfather rose, looking up to the skies.

“Only God knows my boy, only God knows”.
"If the sea returns blue child,
then only God knows"

Branches, on a lonely tree.
Growing, in a lonely field.
Where the green,
falls to the sea.
Into the blue,
Into the deep.

There, upon the coral floor.
Dancing,
with the changing tides.
Swaying,
going with the flow.
Forever reaching
to the light.

Branches,
underneath the moon.
Dancing
with the western winds.
Waiting for the Sun to come.
Another day
to begin.

The glow worms luminescence,
lighting up the willow tree.
The ladybirds are sleeping,
underneath the dewy leaves.
No weight of expectation.
A simple life.
A simple thing.
In harmony with nature.
In harmony with all that sings.

The shadows,
that the sunlight gives.
The dawning of the day.
The magic spells.
The hope that dwells,
in every word we say.
All out there
with each other.
Underneath a dying Sun.
Searching for a hidden God.
The one that lives in everyone.

Sitting in the high grass,
praying as the sky turns grey.
Waiting for the cargo,
nervous eyes upon the waves.
Everything invested,
every shilling,
every crown.
His heart
is in his salty mouth.
On the cliff
as he looks down.

His eyes look to the lighthouse.
It's beam
they follow
out to sea.
He holds her locket
in his hands,
prays again,
"just let it be."

But this time,
prayers aren't answered.
The whistling wind,
begins to rise.
He opens up the locket,
stares and cries
into her eyes.

Alas, it is all over now.
He knows
that he cannot return.
The ebb and flow
is angry,
and he wonders
will he ever learn?

The bodies on the rocks below,
signal the sad end.
As lights appear upon the shore,
his dreams start to descend.
Into the rain.
Into the gales,
that blow on Bantry Bay.
He throws the locket to the wind.
Once more now,
upon his way.

The Sugarloaf Mountain on our right,
and we ain't getting home tonight.
The Underlings from deep below,
have opened up the hidden doors.
They've come to change
the flight of men.
From deep within,
their ancient dens.

Ancient knowledge
Ancient ways.
Once more to see,
the light of day.
Stolen by the kings and queens.
The ones who've stolen
all our dreams.

The Underlings
are on the move.
Redemption sought
and souls to sooth.
From the centre
of our world.
The Underlings
are here once more.
Here to change the way we see,
everything that we can be.

Inhale.....,
Exhale.....,
The holy grail,
is deep within your mind.
Breath In....,
breath out....,
dont scream or shout,
seek and you shall find.

Sitting on the ancient hill,
where High Kings once were crowned.
The Stone of Destiny in light,
thats sometimes lost and found.
Then the Sun it rises, bringing sight,
to tired eyes.
That Star that burns
for all of us,
shining in the morning sky.
Guiding some to madness,
others to a shadowed truth.
On The Hill of Tara,
reconnecting with our roots.

In the land of plenty.
In the land of throw away.
All the silent voices,
dancing every night away.
In the land of freedom.
A bigger freedom than the rest.
A place, it seems that colour,
can place you, under their arrest.
A place where freedom
tows the line,
underneath the dollar sign.
In the land of plenty.
Underneath the dying sky.